The wedding was picture-perfect. The sun filtered gently through the stained glass windows of the old chapel, casting colorful patterns on the polished wooden floors. The scent of fresh roses filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of a classical quartet playing in the background. Friends and family, dressed in their finest attire, filled the pews, their faces aglow with joy and anticipation.
The bride, resplendent in a gown of ivory satin and lace, moved gracefully down the aisle, her arm linked with her father’s. Her veil trailed behind her like a whisper of clouds, and her eyes shone with love and excitement. The groom stood at the altar, his expression a mixture of awe and emotion, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. The moment was profound, captured in perpetuity by the flickering screens of the guests’ phones, each eager to immortalize the union of two souls.
But then, as if scripted by fate itself, the heavy wooden doors at the back of the chapel creaked open. The sound echoed through the space, causing a ripple of disturbance among the guests. Heads turned, and a hush fell over the gathering. A woman stepped inside, her presence commanding attention despite the simple cut of her dress, which was neither bridal nor particularly formal.
